Mothers and Lovers
by Carelna
Summary: On the early days I always tried to talk to you. I wanted to ask you if you were okay. Or if you ever would be. You never answered. Only gave me some meaningful look that told me you weren't going to open up. So, I decided to leave you with it. That is, until they showed. Spoilers for the sixth season. Slash. Part 4 of The One and the Other series.


**Hey! **

**This is the fourth (for now at least... I have a feeling there will still be something between the second and third part that's not written) part of my The One and the Other series. I've come to hate the articles I've used before in the names. I just might take them away. Who knows. **

**Well, this is basically about Reid's fear for schizophrenia and it becoming very real threath during the sixth season. Also written from Morgan's point of view. Contains spoilers for the said season.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

You never say anything about it but I know you are scared. Every time I ask about her or someone from the hospital calls you I see that one particular look in your face. You grow pale and your lips start to tremble. Your eyes darken. Quickly, like a lightning you reach for your shell, grab it and bury yourself under it. It's hard for me to protect you then. I still try, but I fail. Every single time.

On the early days I always tried to talk to you. I wanted to ask you if you were okay. Or if you ever would be. You never answered. Only gave me some meaningful look that told me you weren't going to open up. So, I decided to leave you with it. That is, until they showed.

I was hurt at first. I saw that something – if not everything – was wrong with you. Everybody saw, actually. But you kept pushing us away. Pushing me away. I thought it was just you being a stubborn kid like you sometimes were. I didn't realize that it was something bigger – something worse. Not until you rushed to the toilet far too many times a day coming back looking always more and more tired and defeated. For a long time I wasn't sure if I should talk to you or not.

Then JJ left and eventually we lost Prentiss too. It was all so empty and cold and dark by those times that no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on you I almost every time found myself thinking about how _I _was doing. You weren't the priority then and I later on I regretted it more than anything. You were the best thing that had ever happened to me and I was ready to let you go only because _I_ was feeling miserable.

I wasn't sure if you'd ever come around but I got to realize that it would only take me couple of minutes to get you to talk to me in that state of mind you were, as I followed you in to the toilet during one particularly hard case – hard, at least for you. I studied you and felt scared when you raised you water-dripping face and let out a sigh. We talked. And I kept looking at your pale, tired face. You looked older. I wasn't used to it. You weren't a kid anymore. Or maybe you had hidden him in order to make it easier. In order to be tougher.

You were scared. It was the one thing I had been sure of for a long time already. You were almost thirty and the possibility of schizophrenia was coming closer and closer. You didn't want to end up like your mother. Yes, you loved her, but I could read from your eyes the main reason for not visiting her so often. Sure you were busy and sometimes you just didn't have time to go. And sure it was a heavy burden to carry and it was hard to see your mom like that. Still, I was sure that the biggest reason was your constant fear of having to be sent to a mental hospital. Something, I promised not to do. Ever.

* * *

You have been the one first awake for a couple of weeks now. I remember always being the early riser, but nowadays it's you who make the coffee and toast the bread. Those things are not important. Only thing that matters is that you cannot sleep anymore. You say it's okay and you'll be fine but I can see it's not okay and you're not going to be fine just like that. I wrap my arms around you every morning placing a gentle kiss on top of your head but it's hard to say if you notice anything.

It's not your capability of staying mentally stable I'm worried about. It's not even your will to stay balanced. It's your head and your physical healthiness. I have a feeling that the migraines you get are not due to schizophrenia. They can't be. It would mean that I was going to lose you and I know I've faced too many bad things in my life already for that to happen. And so have you. We should be off the hook by now.

All the same, I'm afraid that someday the headaches and the fear get too strong and too big and you lose yourself to the dark. And me to the cold at the same time. Still, you're not weak despite the fact that you think you are. But only your desperate thoughts can make you a loser of this never-ending game called life.

And now, every night I try to hold you close just a little bit longer and just a little bit tighter. I feel like the only way of keeping you in this world is not to let you go. Still, all I can do is to be there for you. I love you, but it's hard to help you when you don't want help at all. You tell me time and again that you're a grown man and you don't need anyone walking you on a leash, but I can't help it. You're too important.


End file.
